


Salty (like a summer day)

by coricomile



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2021 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 02, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: Dean fucks like a natural disaster.Sam can buckle down the hatches and brace himself for the storm, but he's never truly prepared to be on the end of one of Dean's attacks. It's not sex, it's not lust, it's not any word in English that Sam can yank out of the limited vocabulary Dean leaves him with like this. Most times, it's all Sam can do to keep up. He's not going to complain about being swept up in the wreckage.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136411
Comments: 3
Kudos: 149
Collections: SPN Kink Bingo 2021





	Salty (like a summer day)

**Author's Note:**

> For the blowjob square on my kink bingo card. 
> 
> It has been FOREVER since I have done a kink bingo and I am stoked to kick it off with this lil guy.

Dean fucks like a natural disaster. 

Sam can buckle down the hatches and brace himself for the storm, but he's never truly prepared to be on the end of one of Dean's attacks. It's not sex, it's not lust, it's not any word in English that Sam can yank out of the limited vocabulary Dean leaves him with like this. Most times, it's all Sam can do to keep up. He's not going to complain about being swept up in the wreckage. 

He'll never complain when Dean's wrestling with him- hot skin and slick sweat and rough hands and split lips always cracked into a grin. He'll never complain when Dean's hands push and shove, biceps bunching as he throws Sam around. He'll never complain when Dean kneels in front of him, an offering of devotion, eyes bright and sharp and terrified. If the body is a temple, Sam is Dean's top patron and Dean is his. 

Dean likes mutual benefit. He likes toppling Sam to one mattress or another, tangling him up in layers of limbs and clothes, twisting them together so tightly that neither one can wiggle away. It's as claustrophobic as it is reassuring, Dean absolutely through and through. Sam wants to choke on him, wants to split their skin and crawl inside each other and remove the stupid pain of human suits and emotion and just live inside of that pocket of overwhelming sensation. 

Dean brings out the animal in him. When they're stripped down to flesh, Sam can feel the skin at the back of his neck prickle, feels his fingers curl like he can sink claws in. Some nights, they crash together after close calls, arms tight and mouths tied like magnets. Some nights one of them has an ache here, a pain here, a broken open wound that needs stitching before it can be healed. Normal people, Sam thinks, don't need more than a fist sized dose of generic CVS drugs. Normal people don't slog back an eighth of whiskey and close their eyes.

Normal people don't spread their thighs wide over their brother's head, stretching their underwear past the elastic. Normal people don't shove their faces into the bad diet soft skin of their brother's stomach and bite, don't root against soft cotton until they can force their brother's cock out past the loose button slip of their briefs. 

There's what other people do and there's what Sam and Dean do. 

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean says, hands locking against the back of Sam's thighs. Dean likes it when they suck each other off at the same time, likes it when Sam shoves his ass in the air because he's just a shade too tall to fuck Dean's mouth and suck his dick at the same time. 

Sam likes it when he can feel the sprawl of Dean's hand over his ass, hot through his underwear and the sloppy heat of Dean's mouth, wet even through a barrier. Likes bracing himself against the too small bed and riding Dean's mouth because he, somehow, always ends up on top, facing the empty space at the foot of the bed. Likes how he can feel the muscles in Dean's thighs bunch and jump under his palms as he sucks and licks at Dean's cock. 

Sam grinds down, the heels of his palms sinking in. Dean turns his head just enough to open his mouth against the side of Sam's cock, his tongue hot and flat against the thin cotton of Sam's briefs. Sam turns his own head and sinks his teeth into the give of Dean's thigh. 

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean wheedles, lips dragging across the shaft of Sam's cock through his underwear. His fingers sink into the meat of Sam's thighs, pinpoint pain that dulls away into the background behind the slide of Dean's tongue just under the head of Sam's cock. "Think your hoodie gave up."

Dean's cock is cut, the fat head rude red and naked proud as it fucks up against Sam's sore lips. Sam's isn't. It's one more crack in the giant thread that links them. The fire had happened before Sam's cut- born prematurely, born with weird vitals, born _strange_. Sam likes getting rough, likes climbing Dean and _fucking_ , but Dean has always been fascinated by that little bit of skin, tender to that place he can bare his teeth at and stretch and worry between those fat lips. 

Dean sticks his tongue against where Sam's foreskin is tight over the head of his cock and Sam breaks another loose-thread button with his nose, snorting and huffing against hardness until he gets smooth skin under his tongue, ass up and back bent. Dean drags his teeth over the hard stretch of Sam's cock and Sam breaks. 

"Dean-" His head dips, drops between the thick columns of Dean's thighs. The fine hair there- same shade as Sam's beard, darker than Dean's but still not quite blonde- catches against Sam's night stubble and tugs as he mouths against Dean's ass through the worn out cotton. 

Dean's so precious about it. He can stick his tongue and fingers and cock up Sam's ass, can swallow Sam's dick and lick at his hole after he's gotten off inside it, but the moment Sam's hands go toward the back he gets fidgety. One day, Sam thinks as he finally gets his mouth around the bare head of Dean's dick, he's going to fuck the _being the bottom means being the girl_ out of Dean, gonna show him how good just _taking_ it can be. 

Today isn't that day. Today Sam fucks his hips down in slow rolls, his mouth spread wide around Dean's cock. He sucks at the head, a grown up pacifier that calms him through and through. Dean cheats, gropes Sam through his briefs before yanking them down, and then all Sam can think is in abstract verbs. 

_Lick, suck, thrust, oh fuck-_

Sam whines when Dean's arm locks around his waist, holding him still. He whines even louder when Dean shoves up with his hips, feet braced against the bed, crown of his head dug into the mattress. They move a foot down the bed and a little sideways, Dean's head falling off the edge. When he lets go of Sam's hips, Sam thrusts down, cock sliding in deep into _tight, hot, wet, Dean gasping to catch his breath, Dean, Dean Dean_ -

Sam should feel worse about giving up on his own blowjob, should feel a little bad about leaving Dean high and dry while he thrusts deeper and deeper into that hot little space Dean has made for him. He should, but Dean's thighs lock around his ears, turning everything into muffled underwater sounds and Dean's fingers drift into his ass, bitten nails too sharp and too soft at once. 

"Dean," he gasps against stone hard thigh, hips working hard enough that he can feel the strain. Dean doesn't say a word, just responds by sucking harder, his tongue sneaking between Sam's foreskin and the sensitive head of his cock. He sucks in a breath and holds, head spinning as he gets closer, closer, closer, _there_ " _Dean_."

Dean's hands catch him at the hips, hold him still as he tries to fuck in on instinct. Sam swears, tongue tot heavy to make real sounds, ass clenching and balls throbbing as he comes. He can feel the _hot tight wet_ around him until the very end, right up until his dick jerks past Dean's mouth to give one last weak spurt. 

He can't see it, not from this angle as he latches back onto Dean's cock and sucks, but he knows that Dean's wearing at least a little of his jizz on his face. Sam sinks his teeth into Dean's thigh, catching some of the balled up cotton of Dean's shoved down underwear between them. 

"Stay like-" Dean's swollen knuckles knock into Sam's slack mouth, split open old copper wounds, but Sam keeps his mouth open, keeps his fingers dug into the heft of Dean's thigh as Dean jerks himself of in tiny little flicks of his wrist. "Fuck, fuck- _Sam_."

Salt and heat and slick on Sam's cheek and jaw. Sam presses the tip of his tongue on that sweet spot between Dean's balls and his open-close-open-open-close twitching asshole. One of Dean's hands grab his ass, nails slicing into his skin, and the other falls against his head, holding him in place. The adrenaline bubble finally bursts and Sam's thighs give out.

"Fuck," Dean wheezes, mouth somewhere against Sam's left leg. "Ge'off."

"Did," Sam mumbles as he makes the heroic journey of turning himself head up on the bed. He goes limp as Dean drags him up the rest of the way, fussing until he's flat on his back and Sam's head is somewhere close to his armpit. It's not fair how he keeps himself so together after getting off when Sam feels like he might float off into space. "Gonna-" Yawn, his mouth splitting open over Dean's sweaty shoulder, cracking the drying jizz on his cheek that he really should clean off. "Gonna finger you next time."

"Whatever you say, Sammy," Dean says. It's part tease, part fondness so strong that Sam's stomach turns. In the morning, he'll wake up clean and wrapped up in Dean one way or another. In the morning, they'll peel their sweat and come sticky skin apart and move. 

But the night is long, and the sun has just set. Sam tucks his nose under Dean's jaw and breathes him in.


End file.
